All language subtitles for Os.Maias.2014.PORTUGUESE.DVDRip.XviD-UT.Eng

The house that Maia came to live

in Lisbon, in the fall of 1875

was known throughout the neighborhood

as the "Bouquet of house"
called simply "The Bouquet".

MAIA THE SCENES OF LIFE ROMANTIC

Cursed Jacobins!

In 1825 Lisbon Maia, Benfica.

My son, Afonso da Maia, a Jacobin!

You called me, father?

"Citizen"...

If I did not have gout,
I would break you cane.

Encyclopedia!

It is unworthy of a
Christian would be proud,

I do not say to his family, but
the heroes of his country,

attending the Masonic lodges

and recite abominable odes

the "Great Architect of the Universe."

I learned that "Mr. Marat"
mingled with the mob

to throw stones at the windows
of the Legation of Austria.

The residence of the ambassador
of the Holy Alliance!

I should stop!

You will go immediately to our area of?
Santa Olavia

to calm your nerves and your stupidity.

Without spending money without my blessing.

I gave my orders.

Do Afonso Maia's exile did not last long.
Annoyed by loneliness,

He asked the blessing of his
father and a thousand cruzados

and left for England.

But his father died
suddenly Caetano da Maia

and he had to return to Lisbon.

That's when he knew Maria Eduarda Runa,

the daughter of the Earl of
Runa, a beautiful brunette,

small, soft, slightly sickly and
devout Catholic. He married her.

He had a son, Pedro. He wanted more.

But his wife died young.
The years passed...

In 1847 Lisbon Maia, Benfica

I repeat, my father.

I ask your permission to marry a lady

named Maria Monforte.

I think this is the daughter
of a murderer of a slave

and it is called itself "the slave"!

My father!

You make me ashamed.

What have you yet to tell me?

Be sure of that, my
father, I will marry her!

Send my luggage at the Hotel Europa.

Yes, sir.

Sir, your son got married. He
went to Italy with his fianc�e.

Have you breakfasted, Vilaca?

Yes, sir.

Remove the cover. There
will be only one now.

Sit down, Vilaca.

Admiral Saldanha has been dismissed?

That's right, sir.

As they loved and were happy,

Pedro da Maia and "beautiful slave",

in Naples, the country of sweet "romance",

in Rome the eternal marbles,

in the Paris of Prince Louis Napoleon,

and powder odor, scum insatiable workers,

and beautiful brand new
uniforms Mobile Guard.

Paris, autumn 1847.

Pedro wrote a beautiful and
tender letter to his father.

The poor boy loved her.

Tell him I love it already.

Tell him that if I have a boy, I
will give him his first name.

Write her a nice letter...

The quarrels were to end

around the cradle of Maia which promised,

that would be the eldest
and heir to the name.

He swore to his father that
just arrived in Lisbon,

he would throw himself at her feet.

For landed sentence, he hurried home.

But his father had left for
Santa Olavia two days earlier.

He took it for an affront

and dramatically told Vilaca:

"I have no father. ".

House Arroios, Lisbon 1849

Maria!

I will dedicate to you
"The Flower of Martyrdom!"

I saw you tonight in the splendor salons.

With your tresses, whirling madly...

Alencar!

A romantic breath through the party!

Pedro... you sulk?

What is it, my love?

Nothing.

Look at me.

I think I'll give you another child.

Pedro!

What happened, my son?

Your wife is dead?

Do not worry, I'll take
care of my grandchildren.

You were right, my father.

"It's fate."

"I'm leaving forever with Prince Tancred."

"Forget me. I am unworthy of you."

"I take Maria with me, because I
can not separate myself from it."

Who is this Prince Tancred?

An Italian...

She took Maria?

And the little one? Where is it?

His nurse. I brought with me.

What is the name my little son?

Carlos Eduardo.

Carlos Eduardo?

Afonso da Maia Pedro remembered
the crazy bursts past,

his dark anguish, obtuse and without tears

when her mother Maria Runa
had died in this house,

in terrible agony of bigoted,
maddened by the terrors of hell.

Afonso then decided to
close forever home Benfica

and go with his little
son, and all domestic

for area of? Santa Olavia in the Douro.

In February Vilaca went there,
accompanying the body of Pedro

that was to be deposited
in the family vault.

He found Afonso da Maia in the lounge,

windows closed in bright winter sun,

collapsed in a chair,

the emaciated face under
her long white hair,

idle hands resting on his knees.

On his return to Lisbon,
Vilaca spread the news

that the old man would not pass the year.

But it lasted much longer.

There is nothing better for a
man than the taste of water,

the sound of water,

the view of the water.

Afonso loved the waters of Santa Olavia

sources, water jets,

the quiet mirror brown water,
fresh murmur of flowing water.

It is in the invigorating effects
of water he saw the reason

having himself crossed the
century without pain or illness,

Robust, misfortunes and years.

Autumn 1875.

"The Bouquet" House of Maia in Lisbon.

Carlos after studying medicine in Coimbra,

returned from a long trip to Europe

and was seriously considering
starting a career.

It was bound to live Lisbon.

The day before the arrival
of Carlos in autumn 1875.

Afonso finally decided
to leave Santa Olavia

and settle in the house
called "The Bouquet".

It's been 25 years since he
was no longer came to Lisbon.

Looks like the apartments
of a dancer, not a doctor.

Manuel Vilaca, you're almost
as good steward your father.

May God guard.

Sleeping at the cemetery.

It was a sensible man.

Tomorrow comes the boat
that takes my little son.

Office Carlos in Rossio.

What stupid hours...

Here is our Maia, Maia Carolus Eduardus ab,

who began his glorious career,
ready to save the ailing humanity,

or kill, depending on the circumstances!

Jo�o da Ega Ega Johannes ab!

The atheist, the man of the
revolution and booze...

How did you know? When did you get?

This morning.

You come home from London with superb mine

superior civilizations.

It looks like a Renaissance
man, a true Valois.

Nothing beats a nice beard.

Where are you from? Celorico?

Not at all. Foz. I am sick, my dear.

Liver, spleen, an amount of viscera.

Twelve years of wine and eau-de-vie.
I will not go over Celorico.

You do not know the delightful
story that I had with my mother.

After finishing my studies at
Coimbra, I wanted to settle in Lisbon

with a nice pocket money monthly.
She would not.

I started to epigrams on the
priest and all the heavenly court.

In July, there was an outbreak
angina, diphtheria...

My mother thinks my presence, the
presence of the atheist, the agitator

who do not fast, and do not go to Mass,
offends God and brings misfortune.

The priest, who does not
like to see me there,

said it was possible
that the Lord be angry.

My mother begged me on his
knees and open exchange,

to go and live in Lisbon.

I ruin, but I did not
attract the wrath of God!

The next day I was off to Foz.

- And the epidemic...
- As soon soaring!

Ega, what an extraordinary coat!

It's beautiful, is not it?
I ordered from Strauss.

One of the benefits of the epidemic.

You're in wonderful shape.
You are another Ega!

Where is the greatest atheists,

agitator who advocated
killing the middle class,

love without marriage fiction,

the division of property
and the worship of Satan?

I'm the same. With other clothes.

Who is Ms. Cohen?

Who is this?

In your letters that I received
in Berlin, The Hague and London,

you were the praises of the lady

with decent momentum of
the "Song of Songs".

A Jewish.

That's why I used the biblical lyricism.

It is the woman Cohen,
director of the National Bank.

We get along pretty well. She is friendly.

It's time to go to the "Bouquet".

I must introduce you to Craft.

Is it not an Englishman, a crazy race?

A madman? It is an extraordinary boy.

An uncle left him his fortune.

He traveled all over the world,
it collects works of art,

he fought as a volunteer
in Abyssinia and Morocco.

In short, he lives,

in the largest sense, the strongest,
the most heroic of the word.

You're going to love it.

John, where do you live?

At Hotel Universal, this sanctuary.

I hate to Universal.

Just settle down at the Villa du Bouquet.

That does not help me...

In any case, you will dine there
tonight with my grandfather.

I can not. I am invited by this ass Cohen.

I will come to lunch tomorrow.

I forgot to tell you: I
will publish my book.

The "Memoirs of an atom?" So it's ready?

This is sketched in broad strokes...

The book Ega! A literary revolution!

An epic in prose,

the history of the major stages
of the Universe and Humanity

entitled "Memoirs of an atom. ".

Fans Ega said, pensive
and shivering respect:

"This is a Bible!"

Maia will eventually run out of money.

These lands, these nine horses, those
English coachmen, grooms these...

Mr. Afonso spending enormously.

But not for him. He wears the
same jacket for twenty years.

But there alms, pensions, loans...

Waste!

Morelli is insignificant,

it has no style or voice.

She was doing so badly that
they had almost taken pity.

Some applause...

When I went to see her, she seemed happy.

How is she?

Wrapped, large,

very white,

good teeth, beautiful eyes.

And foot?

I'm not a fan of feet, I did not notice.

Everything explodes with the
solemnity of the sound of an organ.

It is cooled, it stopped...

the hero of heart within me.

Life was gone, now I was free.

I carry this pure love immortal essence.

Ega!

What the hell?

I never liked that house.

You will not know...

Carlos! Stop immediately!

He can not hear you.

And the small?

I do not know. Alencar did nothing said.

She had to die too, if not Monforte

would already come to you extort money.

This woman is a prostitute,

but the child is my blood.

Dead or alive, it will always
be a stranger in this house.

Carlos lives Ega with binoculars,

observing, watching Countess Gouvarinho

and talk to the ear of Raquel,
who smiled nonchalantly.

The Countess looked eloquently.

Carlos was exciting,
with red hair and curly,

his petulant little nose and his eyes
were telling him a thousand things.

It was deliciously well done

with very fair skin fine
and soft, comparable,

even remotely satin.

Carlos feels the veins
bright heat of youth.

It was all the fault of Ega,
that Mephisto Celorico!

Troubled, Carlos looked
away from the lodge Cohen.

Ecstatic, Ega presents Carlos the
Count and Countess Gouvarinho.

He runs to join Raquel Cohen in
which he "flirted" little quietly.

You see, Dr. Carlos da Maia,

I read, as everyone should,
the twenty volumes

the Universal History of Cesare Cantu,

very carefully, locked in my office

for days.

Well, I forgot everything, I
do not remember anything.

Do you recall, Mr. Maia?

Not bad.

It is an invaluable asset.

It's always an honor to get to know

people who do something for our country.

You are part of. Unfortunately,
this is very rare.

- You flatter me.
- Not at all.

You can say you belong to an elite.

What is missing in Portugal,
are the qualified people.

Do we want a bishop? There are none.

Do we want an economist? There are none.

It's the same everywhere,
even in junior trades.

Do we want a good upholsterer?
There is no good upholsterer.

Come on, it starts.

This is the "dagger Choir", is not it?
Let's hear it.

Welcome, my prince, in the
humble lair philosopher.

The modest Balzac Villa is yours!

Napoleon, John?

As the target of my calling.

I train him to speak of tyrants.

- You have to take away that.
- It's quite chic.

- Where do you practice your great art?
- Here.

Very chic!

Ega, embroidering gradually the idea of?
A simple dinner

to get to know Carlos and Craft,

had turned into a gala
celebration in tribute to Cohen.

He had an interview with the butler,

where he advised him to
anticipate many flowers,

good wines,

and demanded a menu dish
intitul�t "on Cohen. ".

He suggested "peas with Cohen. "

Carlos, I want you Damaso Salcede.

Drink vermouth.

It is too early for this
literary and satanic refinement.

What absinthe.

We have just seen a beautiful woman down

with a beautiful little dog
and a gorgeous black servant.

Castro Gomes. I know them well.

I came from Bordeaux with them. They
are very smart and live in Paris.

From Bordeaux?

Actually, I knew them aboard the "Orinoco".

But we were all at the H�tel de Nantes.

Very chic people: A valet,

an English governess for their daughter,

a maid over twenty trunks. Really chic.

The most incredible is that
they are Brazilians...

It has almost no accent, unlike him.

Vermouth?

A drop, to whet the appetite.

Mr. Maia, whenever I can, I go to Paris.

This is a civilized place.
Here is a pigsty.

If I do not go every year, I get sick.

Ah, boulevards...

Believe me, I want. I even have
an uncle who lives in Paris.

And what Uncle!

It is intimate Gambetta,
it governs France...

The uncle of Damaso governs
France, my dear...

True, he has influence.

You do not know? He has a white beard.

This is my mother's brother,
his name is Guimar�es,

but in Paris is called "Monsieur Guimaran."

Welcome the poet!

It is you, my dear Craft! When did you get?

Let me give you a hug, my good English!

Carlos da Maia... Tomas
de Alencar, our poet,

the famous singer of "Voice of the dawn"

the master of the style of "Elvira"

the playwright of "Secret
of the Commander."

Excellence, since the conventions

want me to give you of Excellence,

you do not know who you just shake hands...

I've heard of you.

The son of my poor Pedro
da Maia, my noble Pedro!

So what the hell, you kiss!

Pucker up screaming,
according to the rules...

Leaving aside the "excellence".
I saw you born, young man,

I often took you in my arms!

You have soiled my pants...
Embrace me again!

What a great scene, Alencar! Good grief!

Wood to hand you your emotion.

Your father wanted to call you Afonso,

the first name of this holy man,
the gentleman from another era!

But your mother insisted
that your name is Carlos.

It was because of a novel
that I had lent him.

At that time, we could
lend novels to the ladies,

they were still full of pustules and pus!

It was there twenty seven
years, my children...

Give him the name Carlos Eduardo, madame,

is a name worthy of the
frontispiece of a poem,

"Worthy of the fame of a
hero, the lips of a woman!"

Well Done!

Ah, my children, I feel light in me.

The Marquis can not come

and Steinbroken has gout,

the drop of the diplomat,
the lord and banker.

There is also the drop of the
poor, as the English say.

This is the one I have.

At the table, I'm starving.

Oysters and white Bucelas.

Poor Alencar!

Naturalism had fallen on him by
smashing the romantic cathedral

in which he officiated for so many years.

Naturalism had baffled the poor Alencar

and had become the literary
grief of his old age.

The pure form of naturalistic
art must be the monograph

dry study of a type, a vice, a passion,

as if it were a pathological event,

without picturesque and without style.

This is absurd, the characters
appear only through action.

Here's how you have to
criticize the realism.

Whenever I see one of those books,
I Eau de Cologne asparagus.

Do not discuss excrement!

The loan will happen, or not?

A huge operation, a historical episode!

In Portugal, loans are a source of revenue

as regularly and also known as taxes.

The only function of the
ministries was always

raise taxes and borrow.
And this will continue.

The country goes bankrupt a
small and safe right gallop.

Vive bankruptcy! Then there
will be the revolution.

It will scan the monarchy
and with it fraud.

We will be rid of the old debt,

the old clique, this
grotesque bunch of donkeys.

Among those people who
are in power since 1846,

there are poor and foolish,
but also men of valor.

What a joke! I know, my dear Cohen.

No, Alencar. You exaggerate.

He has talent and knowledge. The
country only needs to rest.

Reforms?

Cohen, what Portugal needs
is a Spanish invasion.

This is too much!

How can you talk about
these things with a laugh?

This is our country.

This is where we live and we're dying.

If things went bad, I would
go immediately to Paris.

Here is the cry from the heart
of the Portuguese courage.

Filer, run away!

This race, after fifty years
of constitutional monarchy

invented in the lounges,
riddled with syphilis,

moldy in the public service,

which takes the air on
Sunday in dusty avenues,

lost physical strength and
strength of character.

This is the lowest and
cowardly race in Europe!

Pea to Cohen!

All rose satiated after
three hours at the table,

stifled by the heat of
the discussion, candles,

gaslights and cigars burning
in the living room.

There is nothing more beautiful than
The Death of Satan Sim�o Craveiro.

There is nothing more ridiculous.

In one verse, there are two grammar,

to a truncated and an image
stolen from Baudelaire.

I know why you say that.
The reason is not noble.

Listen to the epigram Craveiro made on him:

What then does Alencar Alenquer?

On the green meadow.

He did not pick the daisy
and do not daisy flakes.

What does he want? In the green bower.

Alencar Alenquer Want a girl!

Here is how it ends:

He wants to rub her ears.

Listen to me, Jo�o da Ega.

These silly insults and
rickety flow under my feet

like the waters of a cesspool.

I just roll up my pants.

I roll up my pants, that's all, Ega!

Drink water sewers! Your
lyricism will be invigorated.

If Craveiro was not rickety,

I'd rounding kicked him and his doggerel.

And having covered in mud,
I would break his skull!

It is not so easily broken skulls.

I would break it, yes! Like this!

But I will not.

In the skull, there are only faeces, vomit,

pus, the green matter...

What would come out stink town!

We would have cholera, plague!

Come, Alencar, it is not
worth the trouble...

Yes, why get angry because
of this thief of ideas,

who forgets that his sister is
a prostitute in the provinces?

This is too much, scoundrel!

Not here at the Hotel Central!

Scoundrel, coward! Let me go, Cohen!

Do we not men of the world?

I'll slap him!

Talented men, noble hearts.

Ana Craveira is a saint! I'll strangle him.

Enough!

Do this for me, Ega! You too Alencar.

In yours, Jo�o. I lost control.

In yours, Tom�s.

They are amazing. I need air.

Me too.

Craft true English gentleman,
refined and right,

had become a close in a few
weeks at the Villa du Bouquet.

Damaso tried by all means
to become intimate Carlos

and followed him like a dog.

What Dr. Teodosio told you! Honestly!

"Carlos is too elegant to be a doctor."

"What a bourgeois he would
entrust his wife in an alcove?"

That's why I go out shortly.

I prefer to work in my book.

But some of my colleagues
made fun of my article

in The Medical Gazette.

I did not read it, but I
promise I'll read it.

I said that can prevent epidemics

by virus inoculation.

M. Afonso da Maia, Craft...
Hello, my little Damaso.

Carlos, I can tell you something?

I want to pay this rabble.

Throw him in the face with a
spit, the note he sent me

and bill of exchange.

But I only have fifteen cents.

Eusebio is a friend of the order. Do you
want one hundred and fifteen pounds?

Eighty enough.

I will put my watch and
my coat to the nail.

I will give him the sum parts of copper,

coal in a bag, in which
there will be a dead rat,

and a note: "Unclean earthworm, I
throw it to you on the muzzle..."

And your Gouvarinho?

She's crazy about you!
Just say your name...

Her husband is a bore.

If we had to flee all
women married to bores...

So, are you ready for the big night?

Raquel's birthday, there will
be a great costume ball.

Carlos, have you already decided
that you will wear the costume?

I will wear a black
domino, I'm a scientist.

No one has ever discovered a law
of the Universe in a domino.

- How will you go?
- It's a secret.

I have a theory that in these
celebrations, it must surprise.

I do not do secretiveness: I'll go wild.

Naked?

But no, what an idea! In
Nelusko "L'Africaine."

Do not you think it's chic?

Chic maybe not, but certainly great.

And you, Craft?

I will not go into anything. I will
stay at home, in a dressing gown.

Abstention is a weakness of the mind.

Gouvarinho, which is
about to be a minister,

took the matter seriously and
will go to the Marquis of Pombal.

Electioneering...

It does not need. He met
all the conditions:

A sonorous voice, deep
in debt and a donkey!

You do not respected, John.

Irreverence is the condition
of progress, Mr da Maia.

One that respects, decays.

We begin by respecting
Gouvarinho then the king,

and we end up worshiping the Almighty.

Attention�! .

Go away John! You are a true Antichrist!

Very serious, life in
Europe, very serious...

Hold, France... Gambetta
is exceedingly strong...

Bismarck is frightening.

The speech of the Chancellor in
the Reichstag was disturbing.

Obviously, Bismarck is worrisome...

Lord Beaconsfield is very strong...

Yes, I grant you, it is
exceedingly strong...

But now... Where is he?

What a beautiful child...

Also your doll is sick?

Cricri had pain. I have none.

Do not worry, Miss Sarah, Miss okay.

And what is your name?

Here Cricri. My name is Rosa,
but Dad says I'm Rosicler.

Rosicler? Really?

If little had nothing, what have
you been doing all this time?

I waited for an eternity. What a drag!

She has beautiful eyes and
an extraordinary name.

Rosicler... Pretty ridiculous, right?

Drink vermouth.

I am in a hurry. But I
did well to call you.

The little sick and are in Queluz.

Miss Sarah and Melanie were concerned.

Now that I have on hand, fatal man,

tell me about your love affair.

You said you had an adventure.
I will not let you anymore.

Tells the adventure.

Yours are still outstanding.

I want to know this love affair.

I manage.

What I can tell you is
that I found a woman.

It was time.

You frequented vile creatures,
the scum of brothels...

You make progress.

I love seeing my friends
live honorable sentiments.

But do not do as usual. Not gonna
brag about you in the city.

Perhaps you know anything about
medicine and bric-a-brac,

but you do not give me
lessons in terms of women.

Damaso, you did not understand me.

I fear and reckless
enthusiasm, madly in love,

you do strikes this adventure
through an indiscretion...

You are sometimes influenced by
Ega and you love to be witty...

You always come tonight in Cohen domino?

My wild costume is divine.

I'll come show tonight at the "Brasileira".

I will go into a cloak, and suddenly,

I shall turn in Nelusko, singing:

Alerta, marinai,

The Wind Cangi�...

Kill! Kill! Kill!

He discovered everything?

Obviously he discovered everything!
I do not know how.

By the soul of my father, I
transpercerai her heart!

My conditions: Gun, fifteen paces.

My dear Ega, you can not defy Cohen duel.

- I can not defy?
- No.

- He put me out!
- He was in the right.

In his right? In front of everyone...

Do not you feel the lover of
his wife in front of everyone?

It is not his wife! It
is a matter of honor!

You have only one thing to do.

Stay at home tomorrow if he would
challenge you to a duel...

What, Cohen? He is a coward, a scoundrel.

I'll kill him or tear his face with a whip!

I was not bad, is not it Carlos?

You were wonderful. How was she dressed?

As Marguerite, I guess.

And him?

The fool? Bedouin.

Removes the eyebrows.

Will ask the opinion of Craft.

You're crazy, going to
this hour to Olivais?

If you are my friend!

You think the car will hold up?

Yes, it is the Left that the conduit.

- Not bad, your Chambertin.
- You hungry, that's all.

Tonight, your ideas are
suffering from your weakness.

Maybe he will send you a
ticket with Raquel: "Keep it."

Or perhaps he will kill.

If he does, I entered the convent.

- You're too skinny for a Dominican.
- Too lascivious for Trappist.

- Too verbose for a Jesuit.
- Too ignorant to a Benedictine.

We have to invent a religious
order for you, Ega.

I know: The Holy Joking!

You do not have a heart.
I loved that woman.

If you knew what body... Imagine a chest...

We do not want to know. Shut
up, miserable, you're drunk.

Drunk, me? She is very good.

I can drink the whole bottle
and remain impassive,

discussing philosophy.

You want my opinion on Darwin?
He's an idiot.

Pass the bottle.

At ground.

Between those who knew nothing
and those who knew something,

the small world of Lisbon was
delighted to bury Jo�o da Ega.

He was hated!

He decided to retire to
his mother in Celorico

to complete his "Memoirs of an Atom"

and return to Lisbon a
year after triumphantly

his book published, to crush
the poor once and for all.

Before leaving, he summed
sadly romantic love.

"It's as if my soul had
fallen into the latrine."

"I need to wash my soul!"

That's it. My brother
Knight of the Red Rose.

Do not thank me.

They were all in Sintra?

It was a madhouse.

What a nice surprise. This morning
in the House, I thought of you.

Why have you come so late?

Our Comte spoke.

You spoke?

When Torres Valente, which
is grown but a little crazy,

defended the compulsory
gymnastics in high schools,

I got up and I asked him:

"The heirs of our homes."

"They are destined to become clowns?"

The Countess, he told
this joke with a chic!

And when he said he did
not want an education.

"Impregnated catechism",
I could not help myself:

"Know that this country
will never regain its place."

"The head of civilization if
in high schools and colleges,."

"We as legislators,
replace a unhallowed hand."

"The crucifix by the trapeze!"

- Sublime.
- Thank you.

What a lovely irony.

My dear Carlos da Maia.

If you wanted to, we could flee.
We were alone and happy.

He did flee nowhere with the Countess.

More than once for trifles,
she spoke of dying,

flooded with tears.

But her tears had pleasure

that made even softer
satin skin of her neck.

Provided it does not rain on Sunday.

If the races are in the mud,

nobody will notice public clothing.

It's yours?

No, it is a Brazilian lady
I have looked the girl.

What gratitude...

Here, dear?

I would not stay up there as if
I was watching a procession.

News of our adventurer?

Ega? It is Celorico where he wrote a comedy

revenge for Lisbon,
entitled "The Quagmire".

Cohen is it one of the characters?

All of us, D. Maria.

Music is ridiculous.

And what folly, the national
anthem, as a military parade.

This hymn is hideous.

Do you know the Ega theory
of national anthems?

For him, a hymn is the musical definition
of the temperament of a people.

The rate of the hymn reflects
the moral movement of a nation.

According Ega, La
Marseillaise advance swords.

God Save the Queen drags
behind him a royal cape.

And Portuguese anthem?

It sways in tail-coats.

Where the hell are you hiding?

On the other side, with a divine woman.

Very chic! I think I found a mistress.

What Sardanapale!

I had problems. We wanted my blue veil.

"It will damage the skin you, my pretty.
" A country of savages.

I had to remove the veil. He tore!

In the next few races, I will bare.
I swear, naked!

And this invitation to Castro Gomes

so we found ourselves in Olivais?

- Craft and I waited.
- You're not aware of?

Castro Gomes went to Brazil.

He apologizes for not being
able to accept the invitation.

The big news is that it has settled

in an apartment that the mother
of Cruges rent to foreigners.

Because of neighbors,

she does not want me to go
too often in the beginning.

I see.

The races began.

The band played sad passages from "Norma".

"The good races according to
the principle Shakespeare

that says all's well that ends well
"says Carlos and Craft answered.

"A punch is indeed a
beautiful end point. ".

It is half past seven
ET you're not dressed?

Ah, dinner...

An adventure? An inheritance?

Just the word of a patient.

Are you kidding? You
sparkles, you flamboies!

Looks like you have a halo. It has
happened to you something good.

Craft, you never know if what happens to us

is good or bad.

In general, this is bad.

So, Doctor?

Nothing serious. A slight
bronchitis, a slight fever.

It rests and be cautious.

Would you like some tea?

Thank you.

Mom...

You do not recognize?

The gown, Mom. The Cricri dressing gown.

I have not been able to pass him.

Cricri has her dresser and wardrobe

one should not lose his robes.

Is not that right, Mr. da Maia?

Go ask Melanie. She would know.

Goodbye, sir.

Va.

She is charming.

Poor Miss Sarah.

She had a feeling, the certainty
that she would fall ill.

She hates Portugal.

Some diet and a spoonful of codeine syrup

every three hours, she will love Portugal.

Miss Sarah says she can not
stand the heat, odors,

ugly people... Finally...

And you get used in Portugal?

It must be so... this is my country.

You are not Brazilian?

- No, I am Portuguese.
- I would not have believed...

Your husband, who is traveling in Brazil...

How do you know? Oh, Damaso.

You're friends, are not you?

He often comes at the Villa du Bouquet.
I know for a few months.

That's strange. He told me that
you were childhood friends

and even a little cousins?...

A beautiful illusion...

While this may make him happy...

- Tomorrow, of course.
- Tomorrow, without fail.

"Tomorrow... ".

Tomorrow he would enter again
in this room with green walls,

she would wait.

He would not have to sniff
through the city like a dog,

in search of her beautiful eyes.

Now all he had to climb some steps

and the door of his house was open to him.

Suddenly, life seemed easy, balanced,

without doubts and impatience.

Every day for weeks,
Carlos da Maia could taste

the delightful hour,
perfect, the "English tea".

Mr. Damaso is here.

Let him come.

You, here? This example...

He will remain here for some time.

An uncle of Penafiel, the poor.

You have disappointed me, ma'am.

I did not see you at the track.
I waited for you all afternoon.

It was the day before departure.

I know your husband. How's Castro Gomes?

- Do you have news?
- No.

Be certain of one thing:

There is no more stylish
racetrack in any other country.

The harbor view is superb. We
even see the boats arrive.

Is not that right, Carlos?

Yes, it's not exactly a racetrack.

It is true that there
are not racing horses.

And not really jockeys. Or paris.

And do not forget that
there is also no public.

What, then?

We see the boats arrive, ma'am.

This means trouble at all costs.

I agree. Our courses are very good.

Everything is done and
abroad, with the same rules.

For weighing, we only use English terms.

The opposite of Penafiel,
where it rained so much

I was forced to stay
locked up at home to read.

What a drag!

If there were women there who chat...

But there are only monsters.

Peasant bouseuses, it's not my style.

There are some who like it,

but believe me, ma'am, I do not support it.

Leaving already?

So tomorrow.

Goodbye, Carlos. I will come
one of these days "Bouquet".

It does not expose a lady

these lustful views on farmers Penafiel!

And how did you know his address?

In the same way we know
where the king lives,

where is the customs which
side shines the morning star.

These are things you learn
in elementary school.

When you came out, the
atmosphere became lighter.

We laughed a lot.

I left later, I stayed almost two hours.

It was nearly five o'clock when I got out.

Does she told you about me?

Not. This is a person of good taste.

Knowing that we know, it can not
say anything bad about you.

She could have said good!

This is a person of good
sense, she would not dare.

You act like a rogue. We
can not trust anyone.

In this world, everything
is appearance and illusion.

Do not make a scene, I'm
in Lisbon incognito.

Will has a room for me here?

Just an alcove and a pine table

for me to write a sublime work.

There the upstairs room.

With a nice bed and a copy of
the Drunkards of Velasquez.

A perfect lair for art.

In addition, Velasquez is one of
the patron saints of naturalism.

Do you know who I saw on the train?
Ms. Gouvarinho.

- I found skinny but ardent.
- The Countess...

She talked a lot about you,
irresistible and immoderate.

I see you took my advice.
She is doing good in bed?

Do not be rude.

We drink tea, we have
superficial relationships.

You lie, libertine.

With my eye Balzac, I'll
take it all clear on Monday.

Because we dine there next Monday.

About this we?

Me and you, you and me. Countess
invited me on the train.

Gouvarinho and, as appropriate,

added that we should have also "our Maia".

His Maia and that of his wife...

A holy alliance. A subtle arrangement!

You come Celorico rich obscene ideas.

This is what we learn in the
womb of Holy Mother Church.

Cohen returned yesterday in
Lisbon, their trip abroad.

What impression did you?

There has a bastard in this city.

Will we have the right to a scandal?

No.

And your comedy, "The Quagmire"?

I abandoned.

It was too much to stir the Lisbon rot.

This worried me.

I'll take the "Memoirs of an atom."

Come greet the old Afonso.

It is he who will give me food and shelter.

The room of Miss Jones, the
"auntie" Santa Isabel Street,

full of Bibles and religious images,

was the last alcove of Carlos
loves and Mrs. Gouvarinho.

The clock struck 4:30.

Carlos, weak and passive,

was increasingly heavy demands these arms.

This embroidery never seems to end.

And why do I end up?

The fun is to do it.

One point today, another tomorrow.

This is company.

Why do you want quickly
get to the end of things?

This is not true.

There are things that exist
only when they are over.

Only then they give the
happiness that expected.

It's complicated, what
you say, and subtle...

Would you like me to say so clearly?

Mr. Damaso is here.

Tell him that I can not receive it!

This is the default of this house.

It is next to the Gremio, close to Chiado,

too easily accessible to intruders.

It is headquartered at my
door, it's intolerable.

I would like to find a
home to spend the summer.

It would be excellent for Rosa.

I know a house... Well located, a bit far.

At Olivais, it takes an hour by car.

- Can we rent?
- I think so.

That would be perfect.

But we would not see you anymore.

Do not you have horses and carriages?

It would cost you so much? You
have almost nothing to do...

It is a small, quiet property, it is
entered through an avenue of acacias,

the dining room is lovely, with
two windows on the river...

This is my dream.

How can I thank you?

Still looking at me like that again.

No.

You know that I love you.

You know what I feel for you.

But before it's too late, I
have to tell you something.

My love...

I must tell you something!

A love like ours can not live

under the same conditions as the other.

When I say I love you,

it's as if I asked your hand before God.

Do not say that!

We will be happy somewhere.

We'll take Rosa,

I know you can not take it off.

We will live in every three enchanting.

My God, flee?

What can we do but that
is worthy of our love?

Tell me that you're happy.

Farewell, let me.

Go away. Va...

Sell? Me this, Craft!

In the disposici�n of usted...

I have serious things to say.

First read this letter Gouvarinho.

This is a perfect opportunity to break.

She goes to Sintra and you Santa Olavia.

Your business will end as the Roman Empire

dispersed, imperceptibly.

It's boring!

And cheeky!

About "sacrifices"! She
deserves that whips.

What did you have to say?

Have you seen Damaso lately?

I think he sulks. I salute the distance.

You should give her cane.

Damaso spreads all over
you and your friend.

He treats you good for nothing
and said worse things about her.

He speaks at Gremio, the Havanaise House,

with sordid details. We need
you to do to stop this.

Justice will be done.

Grandpa, I do not dine at home tonight.
Come on, Ega?

Good evening, Mr. Afonso da Maia.

Good evening, Ega.

If you continue to speak
ill of me and some people

as you have been doing
lately, I'll rip your ears.

Mr. Maia, please! Right in the Chiado...

This is just a warning
that fool Mr. Gouvarinho.

I do not want trouble!

Craft your friend is an
eccentric, he has exotic tastes.

It does not taste of an Athenian.

This is a Saxon who received
a southern sunburn,

but he has talent.

- All this is charming.
- This is a paradise.

We need a name for this house.

As do we call? "Villa Mary"? Not.

Castle Rose "No, it looks
like a wine name."

It must be baptized with
the name we gave him.

We called him "The Lair".

"The Lair"... It's beautiful and original.

We should write it in red
letters at the entrance.

Exactly, with an animal currency.

Currency selfish animal

in happiness and in his
hole, "Do not bother me!"

It must be impossible to sweet dreams here.

These yellow are excessive.

We will change brocades, we
tapisserons the alcove in pink.

It's no go.

I'll end up liking all these golds.

But this table with the head
and the blood, the horror...

I think it's our old friend
Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

What a horrible head...

We'll take a trip with friends
on the banks of the Douro.

Craft and Sequeira will go with you.
I'll go with the melodious Steinbroken.

I do not know if it is reasonable.
This long trip, humid...

You are very solid, Diogo.

Carlos you will take when
you finish the book.

The campaign is good for wildlife.

A coachman said there was a lady
who would like to talk to you.

Maria... Excuse me, I have to get out.

What is this nonsense? What do you want?

Laute to whom? Why do you treat me so?

Go up, I have to talk to you.

Take a tour through Aterro. Slowly.

Why do you treat me so? You
do not answer my letters!

Not a word, not a gesture...

Things speak for themselves,

explanations are not necessary.

What nonsense, what nonsense!

This is absurd. I do it for your own good.

My love...

Do not leave Me!

You're the only happiness in my life.

I die, I'll kill myself!
What have I done to you?

Nobody is aware of our love.

They know!

For you I would sacrifice everything,
life, honor, everything!

Everything!

Take another turn, do not stop!

Enough! This is absurd!

Our relationship is over, we
have nothing more to say!

Very well! Go see the other!

I know her.

This is an adventurer
whose husband is ruined

and needs someone who pays his milliners!

It is better that you go out!

Be next to you makes horror!

Get Out!

Tick!

It was Saturday all the moves.

Afonso da Maia went to the
Douro take his summer home.

"The old trees and the cool water
of Santa Olavia fail me. ".

Ega went in Sintra "I will feed them !"

"I have an urgent need
to wallow on the grass,

"drinking from streams,
sleeping on a tree branch.

"What Batista sends me an Imperial box. ".

"This animal can not even smoke.
The Imperial is a poison."

"Send Flores rather a box of Cuba"

ordered Carlos Batista

before moving to the Lair in
the arms of Maria Eduarda.

Carlos?

Already back in Sintra?

Yes, yesterday.

I came to see Craft for news.

Craft was tired of the trip,
he was taking a bath.

What's happening in Sintra? What does Ega?

He lives in Victor. Always
funny, he bought a donkey.

We see only Damaso, it is
always glued to Cohen.

It was very hot.

You have seen Lola, the prostitute?

What an idea! I've been to
Victor alone, very soberly.

This is Palma who came there
with a girl, but Portuguese.

He became publisher of
"The Devil's Trumpet."

- The "Trumpet"?
- Yes, "the devil."

Before it was called "The Whistle"

a small newspaper jokes and gossip.

Palma will enlarge the
size and put more humor.

Into a greasy and
disgusting thing like him.

Your grandfather did not say
anything, but it is chagrined.

You have no excuse. The
trip is not very long.

I might go next week. I'll take Ega.

Do it, he will be happy.
Is modus in rebus .

Eusebio he spoke about me?

He tried to talk about your
mysterious life Olivais,

but I silenced.

I'm just curious, I never
wanted to read Roman History.

- Thank you, you have done well.
- You will have to go to Santa Olavia.

I no longer have the "Lair"

and my home near Porto needs work.

I'll spend the winter up the Nile.

Then I will go to Baghdad to
see the Euphrates and Babylon.

Like this?

I hate races and dead civilizations.

What interests me, that's life.

You are a sensual.

Who is this?

My father.

You do not look it.

Do you know that sometimes you look like?

It's amazing, but you look like my mother.

I saw his photograph, it was beautiful.

There is something, forehead,
nose, certain gestures, smile.

Sometimes you're a little
vague and distracted like it.

Excuse me, Mr. Ega is here.

This thug comes Sintra, great.

It will please you. Wait, I'll get him.

I have a surprise for you. Come quickly.

Wait, I have things to tell you.
Damaso is always glued to Cohen.

There is nothing between Raquel
and him, he did it to annoy me.

What a scoundrel!

Do me an excuse to skip her throat!

And poor Gouvarinho mourns.

Grief?

- From you.
- Shut your mouth.

Maria, this is my great friend Ega.
Maria Eduarda.

For Douro, Carlos found his grandfather
in excellent health and radiant.

But he said not a word of Maria Eduarda.

It delayed the time to disturb his peace

in this soft and bright fall.

My God, Castro Gomes...

Bring him in the lounge.

It does not occur to you to
challenge, that's clear.

I received in Rio de Janeiro
this anonymous note.

I must say that its content
left me indifferent.

Want to read

or do you want me to do?

Read it.

This is the anonymous
letter in all its horror:

The grocery paper

writing, ink and smell are rude.

"It is my duty to warn you that your wife,

"With the full knowledge of all Lisbon.

"Is the centerpiece of a young
man very well known here,

"Carlos Eduardo da Maia, who lives
in a villa in Janelas Verdes,

"Said the Villa du Bouquet.

"This hero, which is very rich,
bought a domain Olivais,

"Where he installed your wife and
see where he goes every day."

"Sometimes he stay until morning,."

"The great scandal of neighbors."

"So your honorable name is dragged
through the mud in Lisbon."

So you, Mr. da Maia, in the full
knowledge of everything Lisbon

the lover of this lady.

I am at your disposal.

Sorry... You know as well as I

that if I was looking for a
violent end to this case,

I would not come here to read this post.

Understand me.

I can hang longer the reputation
of an unhappy husband.

I came to tell you frankly,
gentleman to gentleman

I'm going to tell everyone.

This creature is not my wife.

This woman was with me,
she slept in my bed,

So for the hotel, it was my wife.

It is as the wife of Castro Gomes

she rented a house rue de S. Francisco.

And it is as the wife of Castro Gomes

she took a lover.

Besides, let's be fair,

she had no moral obligation
to report to me.

Anything else?

This creature is not a girl that I seduced.

The girl is not my daughter.

I know the mother for three years.

The arms of another, Mac
Green, she went into mine.

So I can say, without showing me insulting,

Maria Eduarda is a woman that I was paying.

I'm leaving tonight for Madrid

with regret to have made your acquaintance

for reasons so unpleasant...

Unpleasant for me.

Mac Green! It is Mac Green!

It's extraordinary, Ega!
Abject thing in the world!

- He asked you for money?
- Worse!

Can you be the victim of a horrible story?

The little guy, very friendly, which says:

"This is not my wife, she's
a woman that I pay."

Do you understand? Such payroll.

This is how the kiss? Hundred francs.
A hundred francs!

If we consider things

as men of our world and our time

there is no reason to
be angry or feel pain.

You understand nothing!

You had a beautiful
mistress who had drawbacks.

Now you have no drawbacks,
a beautiful centerpiece...

I'll send him the sum equivalent

the two months that I slept with her!

What romantic brutality!

This scene is already in
"The Lady of the Camellias".

- This is not to know see the nuances.
- Do not mention it.

The guy went there!

He went to see her?

Batista did not want to bother you,
but he told me that on leaving,

the guy was looking very pleased
and he said go to Olivais.

All this is disgusting.

They will perhaps eventually work out.

I can say, like you:

"My soul fell into the latrine.
I need to wash my soul!"

The need for moral bathroom

becomes increasingly frequent...

Here we should open a
specialized institution.

It's not my fault.

My mother...

It's awful to say, but it's because of it

I met an Irishman with whom I ran away.

I lived four years with him as his wife,

loyal, removed from everything.

He was going to marry me.

But he died in the war against the Germans,

at the battle of Saint-Privat.

I was left alone with Rosa,

penniless.

I sold everything.

For days without lighting.

Rosa was hungry!

My daughter was hungry!

You can not know what it was.

Almost charity, I was repatriated to Paris.

This is where I met Castro Gomes.

It was horrible, but what could I do?

Everything is wrong, your
marriage, your name,

your whole life is false.

What can I do, if at that moment,

I believe that only the
sincerity of your tears?

These tears they have another reason?

These petitions are fakes?

Everything is only
directed not to lose you,

for another man, now that abandoned me?

No, that's not it!

What about me? And I, Carlos?

Why should I believe your passion?

Say it! Qu'aimais thou me?

Was it the woman on the other, the name,

refinement of adultery, the toilet?

Or was it me, my body, my soul,

my love for you?

If that were true!

I swear

by the soul of my daughter,
by the soul of Rosa!

I love you, I adore you

wildly, absurdly, to the death!

Maria, will you marry me?

My love, my love!

Do not marry me.

I am worthless.

Let us start off together,

Rosa and me on your heart!

You will be our friend,

we have no one in the world.

Life is a strange thing.

I think all that Maria told me.

All the horrors she experienced.

Without Rosa, there would
be no Castro Gomes.

That's right, my little Ega, I
have an almost perfect happiness.

But there is this "almost"...

- My grandfather.
- The old Afonso...

Nobody would say with heartfelt
sorrow that I'll tell you:

Your grandfather will die.

Wait, do not get married right away.

Continues to come to the
Lair or sit in Lisbon

that your grandfather could
end his days quietly,

without disappointment or grief.

You're right.

Maria Eduarda will accept.
She knows I do not like it.

The ticket Ega said:

"Read this rag prose worthy of Tacitus."

"Come now. I'll wait two hours"

"and looks like lago Cassio,
put money in thy purse!"

"M'sieu Maia is exciting to live in
the skirts of a married Brazilian.

"Who is neither married nor Brazilian.

"And the simpleton installed
in a villa in Olivais."

"The simpleton Maia imagined."

"He had begun with a chic
lady boulevards of Paris."

"It's just a slut casserole.

"Came with a Brazilian who
had had enough of her.

"Poor fool!

"And again, M'sieu Maia had
only the remains of another,

"Because the lady before
he falls in love with her,

"Had not bothered S. Francisco Street.

"With a good family boy who
managed to get rid of,

"Because, like us, he only likes
the beautiful Spanish women."

"The Devil's ready to trumpet Trumpet."

"The ears of all the conquests of Maia."

"Greetings, M'sieu Maia!"

This is writing Damaso, no doubt.

Take your nest egg, dear Palma.

Business is business. Your nest egg cools.

If I had known he was a
gentleman as Mr. Maia

I would never have accepted Article.

It's Eusebio Silveira, one of my
friends, who came to talk to me.

Then Salcede.

They said it was a joke and that
Mr. Maia would not wrinkled.

Fortunately, the machine broke down!

So, my friend Eusebio
Silveira dipped into it?

He came through.

Damaso and I did not like too much.

One day, I promised her a pair of slaps

and from there, he sulked.

Later, it was speak again

when I was involved in the
"High Life" in A Verdade.

He came to ask me to make
jokes about a birthday ball.

Damaso's birthday, I
published another comment.

He paid for dinner and we rabiboch�s.

But it is not worth much.

Ega, thank you.

Devil's Trumpet is at your service.

Thank you, my worthy Palma. Adi�s !

What vaya usted con Dios, Don Juanito!

Now what?

We will carve Damaso parts.

Either I kill him, or I punched her body

to leave the bed for a few months.

Even today, I will go home with Cruges.

The funeral etiquette
requires a second sponsor.

Whether with a thrust or letter,

I want to deal with him.

Get a nice letter.

I'll get Maria Eduarda.

She wants to see the house
from the street S. Francisco.

- We will move.
- Good.

Mr Ega...

What a nice surprise, ma'am.
Lisbon also has its charms.

In good weather, Mr. Ega.

It is true that early winter is awful.

Flooding in the Ribatejo, a disaster.

Two children drowned, lost
livestock, the horror...

We organize a literary and artistic evening

the benefit of the flood victims.

You will have the opportunity to see
all of Portugal romantic and liberal

at work, in white tie, spilling
everything he has in his heart.

You should go, Maria Eduarda.

If Cruges play piano and
if Alencar told poems,

this festival is ours.

There are two things not to miss in Lisbon:

A Good Friday procession
and a poetic evening.

Maria, who is it?

This is the uncle of Damaso. He was
a friend of my mother in Paris.

It is curious to see here.

The famous Mr. Guimar�es,
intimate Gambetta.

One that helped govern France.

Guimar�es is a poor devil.

It is not the friend of Gambetta,
or anything like that.

It translates information
from Spanish newspapers

and starving.

Another lie that scoundrel Damaso.

By the way, have you heard from him?

I talked to Cruges

and I asked him to wear a black coat.

He eyes widened, "It's for dinner?"

And I: "It's for a funeral."

Be quick and ruthless!

"Now that I have regained my senses,

"I recognize, as I have always done,

"Your excellence has an
absolutely noble soul.

"And the other people I dare dirty mud.

"Only deserve my worship and my praise.

"I would add that if
ever I let another word.

"To offend your excellence,

"We should not attach more importance to.

"As an involuntary breath alcohol.

"Because by a hereditary
defect, I am often drunk.

"Sincerely... " Damaso, who is your lawyer?

Master Nunes, Rua do Ouro. Why?

This is a detail that we
always demand in these cases.

A mere formality.

This story could have
ended in a pool of blood,

unravels delicious way.

Paper, writing, style,
everything is elegant.

Sign, my dear.

Let us congratulate ourselves.

You will be showing to anyone, is not it?

Carlos is generous. Remember Monday night.

Goodbye. Do not bother.

But the terrible Ega

was published in a newspaper letter Damaso

and the "distinguished
sportsman Damaso Salcede"

had to leave in a hurry in Italy
"land of song and the arts. ".

The scandal lasted a few days.

Maria Eduarda had returned to
winter street S. Francisco

and the old Afonso da
Maia, with her old cat

had returned to the Villa du Bouquet.

"What did you do, John?
What have you done?"

"A thousand things,"
replied cheerfully Ega,

before Carlos responds.
"Projects, ideas... ".

The Angel of charity he had glimpsed,

beyond the blue, satin beating wings...

What does it mean?

Of charity, of progress!

Truly sublime... Too bad this is the end.

That make Jesus a
precursor of Robespierre?

What do you think, Tomas?

It's disgusting.

This infamous lick the feet of
the royal family. Disgusting!

What are you going to say?

Democracy, a new poem.

Yes, there is a heaven!

Who plays this soporific music?

A friend of mine, a maestro, Cruges.

It was he who composed this piece so sad?

This is Beethoven, ma'am.
The "Pathetique Sonata".

Sonata Potato!

Sonata Potato! Sonata Potato!

Then Madame la Comtesse, moved
by the eloquence of Rufino?

I am very tired. And what heat!

Horrible. The Marquise de
Soutelo is out with a migraine.

It's no wonder this is not fun.

We must carry this cross to Calvary.

If at least it was a cross.
Unfortunately, this is a lyre.

You Ega... Unable to not speak ill...

What happens to your friend Maia?

He is here and revel in
all this literature.

Speak of the devil...

Here it is, the Prince of darkness.

The Heat...

Atrocious. Attention to the draft.

- It is a doctor's advice?
- Of Christian charity.

Sousa Neto, come here.

I am very sad.

We have not seen you at home last Tuesday.

Excuse me, I did not know you
can start from receiving.

I'll enjoy before qu'Alencar begins,

to pluck the ears of this little clever.

Leaves, it is irresponsible.

Listen to me, you fool.

You have dipped into this
history of La Trompette?

I should break your bones one by one.

Help! Help!

Enough! Our friend got what he deserved.

The sword is replaced by the hoe.

Justice laughs at death.

The school is free and strong
and the Bastille was demolished.

The tiara rolled in the mud.

The lily blooms Equality.

And a new humanity plant the
cross on the barricade!

Roses are most fragrant.

The fruits are sweeter.

The clear and pure soul shines
without shadows or sails.

Pain fled, frightened.

Famine and war no longer apply.

The man sings on earth and
Christ in Heaven smiles!

- My children!
- You were wonderful!

Sursum Corda, Ega expensive!

Alencar had a great democratic triumph.

Towards admirable but indecent.

Have you seen Carlos?

I would like a word with you
and as I'm leaving tomorrow...

- Of course. Have you seen Carlos?
- I think it took a carriage.

I know you're in a hurry, but
it will only take a moment.

- Go to the Gremio, I agree with you.
- Do not wait too long.

From what I was told, you are
close to Carlos da Maia.

- You are like brothers...
- Yes, we are friends.

As you may know,

I really popular in Paris's
mother Carlos da Maia.

There are a few years, she gave me a box,

which according to her,
contained important documents.

The years passed, she died.

I abbreviate, because you are in a hurry:

I still have this set

and I began to tell me that it is
better to entrust it to the family.

Where did you get this box?

In my room at the Hotel de Paris.

I was just staying with the
Maia, at the Villa du Bouquet.

I can send a confidential
servant to fetch him.

Thank you very much.

I will add a ticket and
you forgive him for me.

Mr. Carlos da Maia or sister.

His sister? What sister?

How, what sister? His only sister, Maria.

It seems to me that there
is a misunderstanding.

Carlos is a childhood
friend, I live at home

and I can assure you that he has no sister.

But I saw it a few days ago at Chiado

Carlos da Maia and her sister with you.

What? This lady?

Yes, Maria Eduarda Monforte,
Maria Eduarda Maia, if you like,

I knew a child, I carried in my arms,

who fled with Mac Green

and then was with that idiot Castro Gomes.

You did not know?

You see, Mr. Guimar�es,

this woman is not considered
to be the sister of Carlos.

I understand perfectly.

Given the position of Maia in Lisbon

and in Portuguese society,

this lady is not very presentable sister.

But this is no fault of his own.

It is the fault of his mother,

this extraordinary mother
that the Devil gave him!

Have you experienced this Monforte lady?

Intimately. I already knew in Lisbon

as a woman of Pedro da Maia, but by far.

Then there was the drama. She
ran away with the Italian.

Years later, I met her in Paris.

As I said, I have often
held Maria in my arms.

She was seven or eight years.
She was beautiful as love.

This is horrible!

Mr. Guimar�es, if you do not mind,

I could take you back to the hotel
and take the casket with me.

You do not bother me at all.
It's close, it's done.

"The father of my husband and my
stepfather was Mr. Afonso da Maia,

"Widower who lived in Benfica and
in the area of? Santa Olavia.

"In the Douro region.

"All this can be verified in Lisbon,
where the documents are located.

"My fault, I now see the consequences,

"Should not stop you, my beloved daughter,"

"To have the position and
fortune coming back to you."

"If I die, God forbid, I
apologize to my daughter."

"I sign my married name,
Maria Monforte da Maia."

Will wear this today to Carlos.

I have not the courage.

Not today. I have to prepare. Tomorrow.

What is this gibberish that
Vila�a came to tell me?

I do not have the courage.

I have to listen!

Understand me, Excellency.

As close to this house, I
felt it was my duty...

You have done well, Vila�a.

If I need something, I'll call you.

- What does he?
- My hat.

I had to leave it at the door.

I'm sorry, it's still my hat.

I can not find it.

I could have sworn I left it here.

What mysterious disappearance!

I had forgotten in the anteroom.

Please accept my apologies.

Do you really believe that such
a thing could happen to me

or you in a street in Lisbon?

I meet a woman, I look, I sleep with her

and all the women of the
world, it must be my sister!

There are no Guimar�es, no papers,

there are no documents to convince me.

I apologize. Mr. Vila�a
can not find his hat.

Asking hatless!

Probably also, man, probably with me!

You believe it all, as if it
were the most natural thing

and as if this city was full

siblings who sleep together!

What have you done Vilaca hat?

The poor man was anxious.
He borrowed one of mine.

It was too broad, it was
rigged with handkerchiefs.

What did you? It happened something?

It happened something
extraordinary, Grandpa!

You may know something that
will free us from this anxiety.

I know a lady who arrived
there some time in Lisbon

and lives in St. S. Francisco.

Suddenly we discover that
it is my legitimate sister!

A man who knew went through Lisbon,

he had papers.

My sister, who had been
taken when she was little,

she is not dead?

Grandfather, here is a
statement of my mother.

I can not refute what
the Monforte said here.

The lady of the S. Francisco
Street is perhaps...

my granddaughter.

I do not know.

Maria Eduarda is my sister...

We must remain calm.

Moreover, there is no loss of life.

There is no loss of life!

I knew the existence of this woman.

She lives in St. S. Francisco,
she spent the summer in Olivais.

This is his mistress.

No, Mr. Afonso da Maia!

No need to lie.

Is she aware of this letter?

She is aware of anything, she
believes the daughter of an Austrian.

The better.

Go see Carlos, he needs you.

I'm fine.

I go to the river.

The worst part is that you
tell him everything, to her!

It must be done immediately,
without hesitation.

- I'll tell him myself!
- You?

Who else? Vilaca?

You must leave tonight in Santa Olavia.
Write to him there.

I'm so tired.

Do you think my grandfather is aware?

I came to bed, I was tired.

Come on.

Do not get up.

I came to tell you

I have to leave for a few
days in Santa Olavia.

You go to Santa Olavia?

Leap Year.

This is horror

God allowed me to live so many years?

These walls!

These walls...

Will you have the goodness to listen to me?
You go to Santa Olavia?

Answer. This can not go on forever!

If you do not go to Santa Olavia,
it is I who will leave Celorico!

This is absurd! It dragged
on for three days!

I beseech thee, a little patience.
I'll talk to you later.

I spoke loudly because it was through the door.
There is no rush.

The devil take the women, life

and everything else.

Carlos!

Your grandfather is not moving!

He was dead. It was already cold,
the body older than the century

which had resisted the years
as an oak and thunderstorms.

He died lonely when the
morning had advanced,

this rustic table

on which he had dropped his weary head.

All around, the leaves of shrubs,

the cold winter sun shone golden.

The cold water of the
waterfall was crying slowly.

Will you come with me
bored in Santa Olavia?

After that I have carried
the body of my grandfather,

I leave on a trip.

I will go to America, Japan,

make this stupid thing and always efficient

called "distraction."

I dare not tell you to come Ega.
I'd like to, but I do not dare.

You have to dare, what the hell...

- Why not?
- So, come on!

I have to make a leap in Celorico.

I will tear my mother a
few letters of credit.

I have enough money for two.

My mother is rich.

A trip like this is a form of education

and mothers have a duty to
educate their children.

But I gladly accept one
of your leather trunks.

Maria realized that it was
impossible to see Carlos.

But she rebelled against
his merciless fate,

against the tragedy and infamy of his life,

she was not guilty.

And she wept long.

Lisbon, ten years later.

A year and a half later, Jo�o da
Ega had reappeared in Lisbon,

full of stories and adventures of the East,

announcing a great book, "his book,".

"Travel in Asia".

Carlos da Maia did not return
to Lisbon until much later.

Nearly ten years later.

"Not a wrinkle, not a shadow of fatigue",

Ega noticed.

Good God, what a blow!

- And the cat, poor Bonifacio?
- He died in Santa Olavia resigned.

He was so big that it could no longer move.

It was buried under a rose bush.

You did not know that was
going to marry Maria Eduarda?

Not. I learned from a letter
she sent me to Seville.

That's strange. I have lived
two years in this house

and it looks like my whole life is here.

Leave here. This is dismal.

If I was told that there

a fortune like the Rothschild

or crown of Charles V

waiting for me and would
be mine if I hurried,

I do not would urge not.

Not. I would continue my small step

slow, careful, correct, only
that one should have in life.

Me too.

Neither for love nor for glory
or for the money or for power.

The devil! I told Vilaca and
the other being in Bragan�a

at six o'clock. And not a taxi in sight...

Viewing. The tram.

- We can still catch it!
- We can still catch it!